


Sleep Deprived After Every Dream

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Dean goes to Hell and everything he thinks he knows is about to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep Deprived After Every Dream

There was never exactly a moment when Dean realized he was dead. In Hell. No longer breathing, no blood pumping through his veins, no racing of his heart. It was the last few minutes that lingered, contrary to popular belief, Dean didn't see his life flash before his eyes. He saw Sam - who was his life, so maybe he simply failed to understand. But what he heard. He _heard_.

 _No... no... Dean..._

Soft and choked whispers and even as his soul left his body Dean thought he could feel the strong grip of fingers on his arms. Feel the gentle cool of tears along his face. Not his own but his brother's. The brother he was leaving behind because he was too selfish to let him go in the first place. And then it was more. _More_. Dean could feel the heat, not overbearing but intense and consuming, as if it settled in the pit of stomach and burned there.

There was no light, no face to be seen, but Dean could hear the voices, could hear them scream. And it _hurt_ though nothing touched his flesh, nothing punctured his skin. The pain took root in his chest, swelled through his system, churned up his spine and made his mind explode in agony. Dean had never experienced anything like it, couldn't form words to describe how steadily he burned.

The physical pain came not long after.

It was impossible to tell time here in the constant darkness, in the air that hurt to breathe in, sulphurous and thick. There was no moment of silence, not even a second of time in which the screams stopped. Dean may have slept, he may have dreamed, he may have died over and over for all that he knew. Then came the series of those who wanted their revenge, repayment for the fate he'd so callously sent them to. Demons, most likely, breathing hissed whispered threats before cracking whips spiked with metal into his flesh.

And Dean screamed. For hours and days and weeks and months. He screamed for his brother, screamed for relief, pleaded and begged and _bled_ , more than he thought possible. They offered a trade, offered a deal, but Dean had learned his lesson and knew that no deal came without a catch. Torturing the others and saving himself, Dean didn't want to know the catch to that.

It began to nick along the fabric of his being, picking and pulling thread by thread, unravelling him one little centimetre at a time. Until Dean let go and fell into it. The darkness grew thicker, his lungs burned with the unnecessary inhale he couldn't fight off, and Dean fell.

-=-=-=-

Cheap florescent lights burned bright down at Dean and he raised a hand to shield his eyes, frowning when tiny fingers swam into view. They curled when he told them to, wrist turning as his head lowered. The distance between his eyes and the floor was significantly less than the last time he checked and Dean pressed his palm into a lightly rounded cheek and frowned. Then a laugh, not more than a few feet from behind him had Dean spinning on the tips of his sneakers. _Sam_. Precious little Sammy, four years old - Dean remembered that Spiderman shirt Dad had brought home for Sammy's birthday - pushing up on his toes and struggling to reach the third shelf. Dean knew this place.

 _Careful Sammy._

"Careful Sammy," Dean called and raced down the aisle, snatching his baby brother around the waist, spinning him away from the shelf and up into the air. "Gonna knock it all down then they'll make us clean it up." He grinned at his Sammy and squeezed him tight.

Sam squealed with joy, tiny body wriggling in his brother's grasp. He thrust his thin arms up in the air. "More!" Grinning down at his big brother he kicked his ninja turtle sneakers up behind him.

Laughing, a happy little bubble of joy curling in his heart, Dean swung him round in a circle, arms lifting him higher up into the air. They stumbled back slightly and Dean pulled the little boy close to his chest, squeezing him once more and ruffling his hair. "Hey, you wanna piece-a candy?"

"Yeah!" Sam's small hands, chubby fingers and pale pink skin slapped onto his big brother's cheeks. "Yes please!" Sam rolled his lips together, trying to copy the serious look he'd seen sometimes on his big brother's face.

Grinning Dean detached himself from the little boy and turned, biting down on his lip as he looked down one way and up the other. The coast was clear and he snuck forward, shooting his brother a grin when the little giggle sounded behind him. Snatching his hand out Dean curled his fingers around a handful of single pieced candies, stuffing them in his pocket and spinning to grab Sammy's hand. "C'mon Sammy, let's go out and play," he winked in secrecy and tugged his brother to the front of the shop, bursting out into sunshine moments later.

Everything was brighter than usual, green grass thick and rich with color, swaying in the wind that felt warm and soft along his skin. The pale blue sky was cloudless and wide and Dean inhaled, thinking he'd never smelt something so pleasant. "This way Sammy," Dean beamed at his brother and pulled him toward a large, dandelion covered hill at the end of the street.

Sam half ran trying to keep up with Dean. "Where we goin'?" Rubbing a clenched fist against the side of his nose he smiled and held tightly onto his brother's hand.

"Up the hill," Dean gasped out and they made it halfway up the slope before Sam slipped and Dean scooped him up. He'd been here before. He remembered this place and this hill. He'd always wanted to climb it but... something had stopped him. Something held him back. Now Dean deposited his little brother in the shade and dropped down beside him, digging into his pocket to produce the handful of candy he'd taken. "Pick one. Anyone you want," he offered the spoils, grinning at the little boy with bright eyes.

"That was big hill right?" Sam smiled proudly and leaned over to look at the candies. "This one." He pointed at a candy wrapped in a red wax paper briefly before clutching it in his fist. "Thanks, Dean. You're a _good_ big brother." Sam nodded and looked up at Dean with a serious expression on his face. "Very good." Looking down at his hands he started to pick at the wrapper, tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrated.

Laughing, head thrown back, Dean reached out and spread his fingers wide through the fluffy brown mop that made up his brother’s hair. "Thanks Sammy, you're a _very good_ little brother too." They fell back in the grass and Dean decided he could stay like this forever, him and Sammy, at the top of the hill under the shade of the tree. It was warm and pleasant, air cool and rich flowing over his body, making his skin tingle.

He opened his mouth to tell Sammy, to tell him that they couldn't grow up, that they had to stay like this forever like Peter Pan in the book Dad sometimes read. But Dean inhaled sulphur and the sky began to crumble. He choked and gasped, sitting up fast enough to make his head spin. He was alone on the hill, red wax candy wrapper twisting in circles along his feet. "Sam!" He hollered, lost himself on the word, sank back into darkness.

Then there was nothing, no hill or bright green grass, no wide open sky and handful of candy. No Sammy. There was only Dean in darkness and screams, lungs burning, skin ripping and shredding along his body with each snarled threat. It went on for hours and days, weeks and months, on and on. Until Dean lost himself, unravelled and broke, begged and pleaded. Then the darkness was quieter once more and the screams were muffled. And he maybe, possibly, fell asleep.

-=-=-=-

Dean wasn't entirely sure why there was a consuming weight curling through his chest, why his fingers were wrapped so tightly around the tire iron pressed into his palm. Then his eyes swept over the junkyard, narrowed on the dirty black of his car. And it hit him sharp and biting. _Dad's dead._ _Because of me._ Dean latched onto that feeling, sank into that fear and emptiness and _pain._ The tire iron was heavy in his grip as he swung it up and back, sent it connecting hard into the trunk, driving harder when the metal buckled and crunched under his assault.

Sam's eyes followed the swift arc of the tire iron; he blinked each time the metal crashed into the car. Finally, slowly, he moved forward. "Dean." His voice was firm, loud enough to be heard in the smashing of glass and crunching of the black painted body of the car. "Dean." When Dean's hand hesitated long enough for Sam to move without risking being hit; he stepped into his brother's space and curled long fingers over his brother's shaking forearm.

"You... you aren't supposed to be here," Dean gasped, panting heavily through his nose. The tire iron fell from his grip and he turned slightly, blinking in confusion at his brother. "You... you didn't stop me..." his head dropped and Dean watched sunlight reflect off shattered glass on the rocks by his feet.

Sam's brow furrowed slightly, eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. "Dean, you're scaring me. Tell me... fuck, tell me what to do to help you." Sam's hand slid up his brother arm to his shoulder then further to the back of his neck. A pained expression flickered across Sam's face, his eyes warm and sad.

Dean had been through this ache before, he was sure of it, but... here he was. Bobby's place. So familiar. And Sam. His stupidly tall little brother that had aged so much in the last year it wasn't _fair_. "You shouldn't have to live this life," Dean flared, shaking his head roughly. "Neither of us. We shouldn't have to deal with this shit. We should be _happy_. I fucking want to be _happy_ ," he spat the word a second time and curled his hand back to send a fist colliding into the car, swearing when the action ricocheted up his arm and burned.

"Okay. Enough." Stepping into his brother's chest Sam pushed him back from the car. "Enough!" His shout rang out, rebounding off the stacks of rusting metal around them. Slamming his hands into his brother's broad chest Sam shoved him hard. "What's wrong with you?" The expression on his face was somewhere between angry and hurt.

"What the hell do you think’s wrong with me?" Dean shouted back. Wrong. There were so many things. Dean didn't even know where to begin. Dad was dead. He was dead. Was he dead? Was this real? This had to be. Sam's hands on his chest left imprinted pressures of heat. "How am I supposed to be strong enough for what's coming?" The words were whispered and clenched, softer than he imagined they could be.

"We just," Sam dipped his head down to meet his brother's eyes, "stay together. We're stronger together. Doesn't matter what's coming, Dean." Sam's thumb rubbed gently against the side of his brother's neck, smudging the grime and sweat on Dean's skin. "You just... you gotta talk to me, man." His brows drew together and his eyes closed for a few moments. "You're all I got left."

This wasn't how it went, Dean _knew_ this. But he stepped forward and his arms wrapped around his brother in a tight and firm hold. Sam was warmth and flesh, _real_ , and Dean squeezed him, held on because he feared what would happen if he didn't. "I don't know how to be me anymore," he whispered and felt the sharp prick of tears along his eyes, lost himself in the need to simply _be_.

Sam's hand, broad and warm, settled over the back of his brother's neck. "We'll get there," he murmured. Sighing out a long breath Sam turned his face into Dean's hair, free hand sliding around his brother's waist. "I know... how much it hurts, Dean. Believe me, but _fuck_ , it hurts less just knowing..." His voice caught and he cleared his throat. "It hurts less because we're gonna be in this shit together."

"Always, until the end," Dean confirmed and allowed himself a moment to turn into the nape of Sam's neck and inhale his familiar scent. Salt and sweat mixed with the suggestion of after shave and that presence that had always been completely _Sam_. His lips pressed into the skin in search of reassurance, holding there, withdrawing within a minute, and his blood raced in his ears as he pulled back from the embrace. "Sorry... I shouldn't... shouldn't have fallen apart like that." He mumbled, head dipping down.

" _You_ should probably do it more often," Sam's voice was shaky. His hand lingered on his brother's neck for several long moments then he squeezed gently and dropped it. "I don't know why you think you always have to be so damn tough." Turning slightly Sam trailed his fingers over the dented metal on the Impala. "God."

"We'll fix her up," Dean reassured, watching his brother's fingers move along the metal and frowning. "Could have been worse. I could have hurt you." Dean knew he would never do that, would never be able to live with himself if hurt his brother like that. "Sam," he murmured softly and reached out to push at his hair, tossing it with an air of affection he hadn't used for years.

Pressing his hand to the sun warmed metal of the car one last time, Sam turned back to his brother. "You'd never hurt me."

"No, never intentionally." Dean shook his head and let his fingers curl along the nape of Sam's neck, breath releasing a slow exhale. He pulled him in once more, holding him close, free arm wrapping around under his arms to press firm into his back. "I do love you, you know," Dean whispered because he felt like he never said it enough, never told Sam the whole truth.

Laughing softly, Sam slung his arm high along Dean's back. "I know that. It's the one thing I _do_ know."

Shoving at him slightly Dean laughed and shook his head. "This is the part where you're supposed to say you love me back, bitch," he smiled, sliding back enough to look up at his brother, watching the fond amusement across his face.

"You know I love you, jerk." Shaking his head slowly, Sam bumped against Dean's shoulder and scratched at the back of his neck. "Ya broke the car."

"She's strong, she'll recover." Dean reached out, patting the back of the car. Steady and familiar, second only to Sam in his twisted little world. "Need a fuckin' beer," he grumbled and shook his head, pulling his hand back from the place it had come to rest on Sam's side. Looking back at his brother he allowed himself a chance to simply stare, wondering when this _man_ had ceased to be the little Sammy he'd always had to look out for. His brother was strong and sure now, more confident, but Dean saw the other side, still caught the looks to ensure the next action was the right one. A small, fond smile played across his lips and he reached out to tug the hem of Sam's shirt, "you grew up good huh?"

A strange expression flitted across Sam's face. The muscles in his throat worked hard as he swallowed. "I've been watching you my whole life. You think I never learned anything?" Moving closer, head tilted to the side Sam worried his bottom lip for a few moments then leaned forward quickly to press his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth.

A fleeting spark of shock worked its way through him and Dean's mind stuttered over the idea of Sam's lips for several long beats. Sam was pulling back but Dean stopped him with a hand snapping out to curl along the back of Sam's neck and drag him back in. The first touch of their lips together made his stomach roll. _This_. He'd wanted it for _so_ long and never dared. Had Sam really noticed? Dean parted his lips against his brother’s, sucking in a quick breath through his nose as he pulled Sam's body hard into him.

Sam pulled back for a fraction of a moment then sank forward into his brother's chest. His hands hovered inches away from Dean's body then collided hard with his Dean’s chest and neck as though some kind of tether had been released. His long fingers gripped Dean's short hair hard, nails scraping over his brother's scalp as his other hand grabbed a fist full of Dean's t-shirt. Lips parting Sam pushed his mouth hard against his brother's, teeth clicking sharply, breath shooting out of his mouth.

Moaning against his brother's lips, Dean felt he couldn't get close enough. Their tongues met and the kiss took on an almost desperate level of roughness, so many years building up and preparing for this moment until _finally_ it shattered. Dean's hips jerked forward, pushing at him, spinning them until he could back Sam into the Impala, curving him down over the hot metal. "Sam..." he gasped when the kiss broke for a moment, eyes locking for a beat before their lips were crushing together once more.

Sam's eyes fluttered open, smile faltering for a moment. "Dean?" His eyes changed somehow, sharpened. Hand slipping from his brother's hair to his shoulder, Sam gripped him tightly. "Dean... there's something." Eyes darting around Sam shifted against Dean's body, pulling him closer and peering over his shoulder.

"Something?" Dean repeated slowly, confused. His lips were still tingling and his heart was racing, but the way Sam stood, tense and alert, had him battling against the heat and _want_ working through him. "What? What is it Sam?" He asked quietly, turning slightly to see if he could spot anything, straining to hear whatever it was that caught Sam's attention.

Jolting against Dean's body Sam grabbed him suddenly and used his weight to swing Dean behind him. "Growling... Dean... _Jesus Christ_ , hell hounds." Throwing his arm in front of Dean Sam slid them along the front of the hood using himself a shield for his brother.

"Hell... hell hounds?" Dean repeated in disbelief, struggling against Sam to pull him behind him. "No, I don't... I don't hear them Sam. This can't be right. C'mon, we gotta get inside, c'mon," he tugged at Sam, eyes sweeping across the rocky path to try and find where they could be coming from.

"I... I don't have anything... salt...” Sam’s eyes were whipping across the ground in front of them. "Dean,” he paused, “run." Sam's eyes darted back to his brother briefly then his body jolted away from Dean, leg stretched out sharply in front of him like he was being pulled away. "Run!" A cry of pain tore out of him and his fingers slid down Dean's pant leg, nails scratching at the denim. Blood bloomed fierce and red across his denim clad calf.

"No!" Dean shouted, struggling to catch his brother's hand. "No! It's not supposed to happen like this! It's not Sam you want!" He panted heavily and felt Sam's fingers slide through his before one sharp inhale pulled in sulphur and left him choking, gasping for air as his body collapsed down onto the ground. The image of Sam, bloody and torn, looped through his mind as the screams pounded against his brain, engulfed his senses.

The dark, no hint of light or shadows, pounded in on him from all sides and Dean screamed. His brother's name tore through his chest as pain wracked down along his spine, flesh ripped from his back. There was laughter, just under the surface of wailing, the taunting suggestion for a deal to make it stop. Bloody tears rolled down his cheeks and Dean shook his head, fought against the urge. And like it always was here, in the stink and fire, hours turned to days turned to weeks turned to months. Years and years. And Dean screamed his brother's name because his voice never grew hoarse, no matter how the air burned his lungs.

-=-=-=-

Sam's feet were firmly planted on the ground beside his bike, fingers gripping the handle bars so tightly his small knuckles were white. "Dean, stop telling me what to do. I'm eight and, and you're not my Dad." His brow furrowed, nose wrinkling in concentration. "Just give me a minute." He rocked back on forth on the bike seat for a few moments, the wheels rolling forward and back slowly. Glancing up at Dean, Sam yanked one hand off the handlebars and pushed at the hair on his face.

Rolling his eyes Dean crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "Whatever Sammy, I don't have to help you if you don't want," he stepped back slightly but hesitated, not wanting to completely withdraw from him, just in case. Dean kind of hated this phase Sam was in, trying to be all _big boy_ and _grown up_. But he was proud of his little brother, proud of him for trying to be brave, so he nodded and waved a hand in encouragement.

"I just, I lift my feet up right? And I push the bike off like kinda forward." Sam swiped at his hair again, a nervous habit that he'd developed recently. Lifting his butt off the seat he stood over the crossbar for a few moments then glanced nervously up at Dean again. "Peddle fast or slow?"

"Remember when you swim? And you keep yourself floating by kicking your legs slowly? It's like that, that pace, steady and slow to start up but fast enough to make sure you don't fall over,” Dean explained stepping closer again. "You watched me do it. You always watch me ride. You can do it Sammy, just _try_ ," he grinned slowly and extended his hand. "Want me to hold the back of your bike?"

"Okay, but just for the first bit." Sam took a deep breath and put one foot on the highest peddle, fingers curling tight over the handle bars. "Ready?" Glancing up at Dean he waited for his nod then leaned hard on the top peddle starting the bike rolling forward. The bike wobbled and Sam did a pretty good job of correcting it, feet finally managing to peddle in a slow rhythm. "Don't let go yet," he said loudly eyes wide and locked on the asphalt ahead of his bike.

"Not letting go," Dean called, jogging along slowly behind Sam as they moved, picking up speed as they headed down the path. Sam was doing _so_ well, Dean felt pride swell up in his heart and he grinned, slowly uncurling his fingers from the back of the seat. "You're doin’ it Sam. You're doin’ it," he chanted in encouragement, letting his hand drop and continuing to jog along beside him.

The bike wavered for a moment then Sam sped up, peddling harder as a smile broke onto his face. "I'm doin' it, Dean!" Feet blurring as he peddled Sam settled back on the seat a little, hair blowing back on his face as he picked up speed. As he tried to look over his shoulder and see his brother, Sam's hands turned the handlebars slightly. Whipping his head forward again Sam jerked the front tire and it started to wobble dangerously. Sam just didn't quite have the skill to save it, keep the bike upright; his feet hit the ground a moment too late and the front wheel turned almost ninety degrees to the side and Sam went down. He skidded a short distance on the unforgiving road, legs tangled in the bike. "Deeaaaan-" The cry was cut off as he sucked in a huge breath.

Wincing for his brother Dean took off after him, hurrying forward to help. "It's okay Sammy." He called and picked up speed. But the road wasn't shortening, Sam was falling further away, fading off into the distance, disappearing. Before the smell hit. The heat burned. And Dean screamed in agony, unable to escape.

-=-=-=-

They broke his mind stitch by stitch, feeding off one moment and lingering to the next. Dean held Sammy close as a baby, carried him in a run from the burning home, only to trip and fall on the stairs and watch as the world faded away and the baby screamed in fear. Above all the other cries in agony, that one lingered, echoed in his brain, and for years Dean heard it each time flesh was peeled away. They left him broken in darkness and suffocating torment and only returned to offer him a way out that he couldn't take.

It was Sam dying next. But not Sam dying. Dean arriving in time to stop Jake and overpower him. And they fell into a pile of relief along the ground, Sam pulled Dean close and kissed him firm and strong like this was the most natural thing in the world. Dean sank into the kiss, greedily pulling at heat. It was everything he wanted, it made his heart race, his blood boil, little sparks of heat shooting through him each time Sam's hands grazed across his sides, pressed into his skin. Then just like that it was gone. The yellow eyed demon was there, ready to gloat and take what he claimed was rightfully his. And Dean wasn't strong enough to stop him, wasn't quick enough to keep the world from fading into that all consuming nothingness.

Dean couldn't keep up with the following blows; one after another, a constant and steady pounding into his skull. Ten year old Sam pushing him into the neighbourhood pool, laughing and playing before slipping and falling, cracking his head and bathing Dean in blood. Twenty two year old Sam clinging to him through sobs as they stood outside a burning building, seeking comfort from his _big brother_ , needing to know he could make it through then falling away when Dean's grip slipped. Fifteen year old Sam with question after question about girls and kissing and touching and _more_ before lips pressed tentatively to his and withdrew and Dean chased the touch but hard fingers pried and pulled and kept them apart.

There was no point in trying to track the time, trying to measure how long had passed since he saw the _real_ Sam. He didn't even know now, if there ever had been a real Sam. Was this all some figment of his imagination? Did he create Sam because some part of him needed to feel that connection? Because he needed to know he was human? Had been once, so many years ago? Then it was Sam in his bed, Sam in his arms, Sam's lips on his skin, heated moments of gasped kisses and rolling hips. Then Sam's blood on his hands, Sam's lifeless form at his feet, Sam breaking and shattering and Dean could do _nothing_.

Each time he snapped back was thousands of times worse than the last. The heat felt denser, pressing harder into his chest, the pain was more agonizing, the screams echoed shrilly. And still the deal was offered, still he said no, trying not to hesitate and consider the _yes_. Eternity. Forever in this endless loop of having Sam for too-brief moments, slipping away before he could get a strong enough grip. There was something breaking apart in Dean, that unravelling thread that tied him to the reasons saying no would never work.

And then, it was different. This was no particular place they'd been before, a dungeon almost. Walls curved, formed half circles of white stone, rusted and worn. Light spilled in from an open doorway and Dean walked slowly toward it, confused and scared, even as his heart quickened in anticipation. "Sam?" He called, knowing this time like all the others his brother was here, somewhere, waiting to step into the shattered remnants of his sanity and holding him together for just a little while longer.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was shaken, rattled. As soon as Dean's voice sounded along the stone walls Sam stumbled out into the light. Blinking he looked around - eyes chasing the sound of his brother's voice. "Dean..."

Throat clenching Dean hurried forward and grabbed his brother, helping him stay steady on his feet and holding him tight. "Are you alright? What... where are we?" He couldn't recall ever being in this place and it made his mind reel. No part of his physical body ached but his _soul_ burned like it was being consumed in a never ending swell of fire.

Sam buried his face in Dean's neck then pulled back quickly hands grabbing his brother's face. "Are you - is this you? They wouldn't, they kept taking you away from me." Tears welled in Sam's eyes.

Gazing into his brother's eyes Sam trembled, panting softly, "tell me something..." His eyes were wide, blazing with fear. "What, when I was a kid and I told you about my nightmares what... what did you do?"

Staring at Sam with wide eyes Dean swallowed thickly, mind trying to make sense of what was happening. This couldn't be _real_. It never was. But Sam... "I held you. In bed, while you slept. Kissed your hair. Sang you lullaby's." Dean's palm flattened against Sam's cheek, wiping at the tears there. "Is this real? Are you _real_?" He whispered urgently, smearing the salty wet between his fingers.

Tilting his head back for a few moments Sam groaned then dropped his eyes once more to Dean's. "I've been trying to find you. They... they took you away and we got stuck just going around and around. I couldn't ever get you back." His eyes softened as his hands slid down to Dean's chest. "God, Dean," he murmured. Almost collapsing against his brother, his arms slid around Dean's neck. "Don't let go." Still trembling Sam pressed his lips to his brother's neck, fingers digging hard into Dean's back.

Dean clung to his brother as hard as he could, heart hammering hard in his chest. Could it be true? Had they captured Sam after he died and forced him to play some part in this horrible torture replaying in his mind? "Sam," he whispered, hand curling into his brother's hair and tightening. "Tell me something I would only know. Tell me about... about..." his mind wracked and turned over possibilities, trying to pick something secret between them. "When I, before... when I died but didn't move on, when my spirit was there. How did you know? How did you contact me?"

Laughing through his tears Sam stepped back. "Ouija board, you s..said you were surprised the damn thing worked." Smile breaking onto his face Sam blew out a breath and curled his hand hard around his brother's neck. "Fuck." A gamut of emotions flitted across Sam's features, "Dean, you know, I've always..." Pressing his lips together he stepped closer to his brother, hand sliding down to his chest. "I-" his tongue darted out to brush across his bottom lip. Chest heaving slightly, fingers curling hard against the muscle of Dean's chest, Sam's lips dragged slowly across Dean's cheek.

With the half breathed words still hanging in the air between them Dean turned into the kiss, catching Sam's lips hard against his and pressing forward. Sam _knew_. And that alone had to mean something. Only the two of them had been there in that moment, shared that connection that stretched past human limits. His hands came up to cradle along the back of Sam's head, pulling him more firm and sure into his body, keeping him there. He made a promise to himself that no matter what happened, this time he wasn't letting go.

Dean didn't realize the force of the kiss was driving them backward until Sam's body pressed into the wall, pinned there, and Dean's hips rolled forward as his tongue slid in slow circles around his brother's.

Sam's movements grew frantic, urgent, hands slipping down from Dean's shoulders to bump over the muscles on his brother's back. He moaned softly, sucking his brother's tongue hard and gasping as he tried to do too much too fast. "Dean," he murmured. It was almost as though every ounce of frustration and fear was poured into his kisses, his touches.

Fear tingled along Dean's spine. This was usually where they were torn apart, where Dean had to watch his Sammy break and shatter over and over. Dean held Sam hard against the wall, pressing firmly enough it nearly lifted him from the ground. His hands shoved roughly at the fabric, pushing up along his chest and curling his fingers around the cotton. Tugging hard, Dean felt the small tap of buttons as they tore from the shirt and his hands shoved under the shirt, forcing it off Sam's shoulders. The kiss broke long enough for him to step back and tug his own shirt over his head, throwing it to the side before stepping in and bringing them together once more. Sam's chest was the best kind of heat and solid and _real_ against him, and Dean's hands moved ceaselessly across it.

Body sliding against the rough wall Sam hissed quietly, wincing as his flesh dragged along the ragged stone. Splayed fingers dragged down Dean's back to shove roughly at the waist band of the man's jeans. He murmured words, almost whispers as though he couldn’t quite find a way to make cohesive sentences. _Want this_ , _you_ , _please_. Shifting his hips restlessly he moaned, head falling back against the unforgiving stone as their hips collided. "Dean..."

A _need_ he'd never really tapped before surged up in Dean's chest and his hands moved frantic and rough along every inch of Sam's body, pushing at his jeans moments later. He wanted to feel every inch of his brother, wanted _everything_. "Just us now," he gasped into the kiss, fumbling with the button and zipper on his brother's jeans. ”Sam, _god_ I want... do you? This is okay?" His palm pushed forward, sliding over the front of Sam's boxers and rubbing steadily.

Sam's body answered first, shoulders grating over the cold stone as his back bowed forward into his brother's. "Yes," he half moaned, fingers dipping under the waistband of Dean's pants and brushing along the curve of his ass. His leg dragged up his brother's then hooked around; kiss-stung lips catching his whenever they passed close enough.

Sucking in a greedy breath, pulling in all those smells about Sam that he loved, Dean dropped his lips to the curve of his neck, smearing along the skin, sliding down to map along his collar bone. Every inch his lips touched Dean felt he couldn't get enough, couldn't _taste_ enough. Dean's teeth dragged along the flesh, over muscles, sucking the hard pebbled nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it.

He fell hard down onto his knees, fingers wrapping about Sam's hips to hold him as close as possible. He gasped slightly as Sam's body curved up into him, pressed forward, insistent and eager. "Jesus..." Dean murmured, nose running along the open front of Sam's jeans before his fingers wrapped around the material and pulled down roughly, heart slamming hard into his chest as he took another shaky step toward something he'd been wanting _so_ long. "Sammy, God... I _want_ you." He moaned low in his throat as he pulled at elastic, "I love you." His eyes flickered up the long expanse of his brother's body, head tilting into the hand cupping along the side of his face.

The strangest sound broke through the hush of their murmurs. A trickle at first, the slightest laugh as Sam's fingers threaded through Dean's hair. He took a deep breath and a low, cold laugh rumbled up and out of his body in waves. His muscles shifted, stiffened, shoulders squaring against the wall behind him as he drew in a huge breath and continued to laugh. The sound echoed off the stone; reverberating and winding around them. It was cold, _so_ cold, void of any real emotion. "Oooh," Sam's laughter trailed off to a dark chuckle, "we _do_ love you too, Dean. You’re our very favourite Winchester by far." Sam gazed down at Dean with wide dark eyes.

Something cold and sharp shot down Dean's spine and he slid back, scrambling across the chilly stone, trying to work up the strength to rise from his knees. One look from Sam, who wasn't really Sam, and he was stuck on the ground, gasping in a ragged breath. "N-no..." he choked on the word, shaking his head roughly. ”You - what did you do... with my brother? Where is he? Where _is he_?" Dean tried to throw heat behind the words, flash anger in his eyes, but that ache in his very _being_ pressed in on him and Dean smelt familiar sulphur as he inhaled.

"He’s right where he's supposed to be, Dean." The demon wearing Sam's body forced a dark smile onto his face. "Thirty years in Hell, Dean!" Sam's fingers trailed across Dean's cheek. "You know," Sam shrugged and rolled his eyes, "time being relative and all that drivel. Months up there and your _poor_ widdle Sammy was _so_ lonely without you." Laughter echoed around the tunnel once more and the teasing tone of Sam's voice hardened. "Didn't really take him all that long to move on though. _You_ , on the other hand, aren't you just the most stubborn Winchester.” Crouching down in front of Dean and grabbing the man's chin Sam forced his head up to meet his glistening black eyes. "How hard can it be to do a little torture? Hmmm?"

"No... no..." Dean wasn't strong enough to summon up the arguments in his mind. Hearing those taunting words coming from his brother's lips, feeling so _close_ to what he'd always wanted but just out of reach. It wasn't real, it had never been real. Dean _wanted_ , always had, _needed_ his brother but this wasn't him. A harsh sob tore through his body as his mind reeled with images, Sammy broken, Sammy falling, his Sam pulled and dragged and Dean could do _nothing_ to keep him near. This pain was physical even without touch, tight and burning along his skin, clenching his heart until it had no strength left to feel. "I... I won't... I can't..." Dean slowly shook his head, wondering if he shed no tears because there were thirty years worth trailing along behind him.

Tilting his head in curiosity Sam raised an eyebrow. "What are _you_ waiting for? You think Sam's up there pining away for you the way you _pine_ for him? You're sick, Dean. Why do you think you're here? You think it's _right_ to want what you want from your little brother?" Sam's lips curled into a sneer. "You seriously think that he would let you touch him like this?" His hand slid down Dean's chest and just under his waistband. "It's not right, Dean. Now," he pulled his hand back, "don't get me wrong - it's not our rule. Works for me." He grinned evilly and leaned in to press a kiss to Dean's forehead. "General consensus down here is that you fit in well. So... come on. Why not have a little fun?" Sam nodded, an absurdly wide grin on his face twisting his features into something unfamiliar. "Torture a few people, tear up a little flesh - you know - enjoy yourself."

Dean skidded back across the wide hall, sliding along the floor until his back slammed hard into the far wall. "N-no... I... I'm not..." he shook his head roughly and sucked in burning air. The threads holding him together were almost gone now; Dean could feel them snapping one at a time, with each word. Dean _knew_ he was sick, was wrong, but hearing _Sam_ say that. Even as he knew that wasn't his Sam, it was his voice, and the words Dean would likely hear if this were real, if he ever crossed that line before he died. Now he would spend the rest of his days, until the end of existence, watching Sam torn from him over and over. "I'm not like _you_ ," he spat, clinging to last few strands of his morality, his conscious, the thing that kept him _human_.

Snorting out a brief laugh Sam pushed up to his full height. "Dean... really. It's been a while since we've had such a clear cut case for bringing someone straight here." Striding across the hall Sam's grabbed a handful of Dean's hair and dragged him up the wall, keeping him standing with a hard thigh jammed between his legs. "You are _exactly_ like me," he hissed as his lips ghosted past Dean's ear. "Sam's not yours anymore, Dean. He's not sitting around waiting for you; he even gave up trying to find a way to get you back. Can you believe it? You wanna see what Sammy's doin'? Oh, excuse me, _who_ Sammy's doin'?" Sam's free hand pressed hard against Dean's forehead and slammed it back against the stone.

The room swam across his vision for a moment, nothing forming any familiar shape before it cleared and straightened and Dean saw any other motel room, so familiar it bathed him in _loss_. One large bed instead of two the only real difference. And then there was his brother, pushing the door open and it was so _real_ Dean didn't even have to question. Had he thought harder about it before he would have known the fake Sam was perfect, all the things Dean loved only more defined. This Sam was... he was a different perfect because Dean _knew_ he was real. This was his brother.

"Sam," he gasped and stepped forward but his steps pulled up and faltered because Sam wasn't alone. And he was laughing softly, arm slung around a petite brunette Dean didn't know, wouldn't know, just a casual thing he reassured himself.

But they touched with familiarity, they kissed long and hard, and she breathed his name in a whispered moan that spoke of something fond. Like Sam was _hers_. Dean's mind sparked with jealousy at the same time it folded and collapsed. And he screamed, begging, "no! I don't want to see this! No!" He banged at the walls but he was as a ghost, making no impression on the world he secretly intruded.

Just when he felt the threads of sanity finally giving away, just when his grip was finally slipping and falling and Dean wasn't sure he could take anymore, he heard it. The softest moan enough to make his screams stutter and stop. Just a name, it could have been anyone's, but the fact that it was _hers_ made him gasp in pain. The room faded, drifted away and Dean found himself once more collapsing down onto stone. "That, it's not real... he wouldn't be with _her_. Sam wouldn't... he..." Dean curled in on himself, fingers curving into his thighs and digging against muscle.

"I know," Sam rolled his eyes, "Ruby wouldn't have been _my_ first choice either but still, you've gotta have a bit of respect for the boy for not discriminating. Oh... but wait..." Sam's expression hardened. "Your Sammy's not quite _demon-free_ either is he? Just drawn to his own kind I suppose." Kneeling down by Dean on the hard floor Sam's fingers curled almost gently against his cheek. "I have no reason to lie to you, Dean... and frankly, I couldn't make up something _that_ messed up. Just let yourself admit it - you belong here. You've _always_ belonged here." His fingers caressed Dean's cheek slowly, index finger trailing along his full bottom lip. "Just a little bit of torture and you can have me." He leaned down and breathed softly as his lips trailed across Dean's. "Just play with us and you can have _whatever_ you want from me."

"I don't want you," Dean snapped and leaned away from the touch, turning his head to the side. Dean couldn't handle this pain, not any more, not when his mind kept replaying a montage of Sam - love and touches, smiles and laughs, the splash of blood, the sudden disappearance, over and over one thing slamming into another all leading up to the _one thing_ that was real. Truth. Sam didn't _need_ him, not any more, while Dean was offered his brief glimpses of love and compassion only to have it snatched away, Sam had... moved on. "Will it stop?" He whispered, cold and hollow, eyes fixed on the ground. "If I... if I say yes... will you stop showing me Sam and taking him away?"

Sam was silent for a few moments, eyes moving over Dean's profile. "If that's what it takes to get us what we want, of course, Dean. Anything for you." Sam stood and moved further away. "You just have to say... yes." He backed away, eyes glinting with pleasure.

It was one of those moments, when Dean saw his past before daring to face his future. Flashes of his baby brother's first smile, so young and innocent, the faith and trust shining from his eyes before Dean even knew what those things meant. It was Sam, would always be Sam, and Dean knew somewhere along the way he'd changed, become a person that deserved this horrible fate. There was something broken and _wrong_ in Dean and it had come years before, before Hell and deals, maybe even before Sam had left for school. Maybe it had always been there. The fact remained that it was a part of Dean he'd never be able to escape. And if this was his eternity, Dean could no longer handle watching his love be torn away. "Yes," he whispered and inside his mind he could see the last of the threads of sanity slip from his fingers.

Things changed almost instantly but the reprieve Dean felt was hollow and numb. That was the _catch_. Dean had known to expect it but hadn't anticipated it to take this form. He tortured. He peeled flesh from skin, played into people's mind to make them break and fall, every face he saw was Sam's. Every scream sounded like his brother's. And Dean thought his torture was over but this, this was worse.

Dean couldn't even fathom the moments passing, only acknowledged them by people. This woman, that man, one after another in constant sequence. And sometimes he lost himself, screamed in unison with each drive of the blade. Other times, those that scared him the most, he focused wholly on this. Got some weird, sick release from making someone else suffer in the way he had for years. It began to darken his mind, fade his soul, bend and twist and snap until Dean could no longer consider himself human.

And then, it was over. Just. Like. That. Dean was opening his eyes. His _real_ eyes. There was no sulphur, no crushing heat, and no screams. It was silent and the air was dense, crowded around him. Dean could feel his heart beating, could _feel_ his blood rushing and it was simply like he'd been dragging a blade across flesh in one moment and now he was _alive_.

Things didn't make sense, not when his hand broke free from his grave and pulled him to the surface, not when he inhaled his first real lungful of air in oh so _long_. The ground around him was charred and Dean was _no where_ but he lived, he breathed, and his heart stuttered out a quick pulse. "Sam..." he croaked, the only person he wanted to see, no matter the sequence of events that played in hell.

Things in Dean's mind weren't playing right. The sky was too bright and burned his eyes, the noises were too loud, and everything felt more harsh and rough. His body moved through actions his mind didn't have time to process, heading from one place to another to try and determine a suitable course of action. Eventually he thought to call his brother's number, remembered it still though his mind had lived through decades, and suffered through forty years of unspeakable pain.

Sam's phone wasn't on but it didn't take much work to call the provider and find its location. That was enough. Dean's instincts kicked in from there. Hitchhiking was easy even if he looked like shit and didn't smell much better. Once he'd found the city he found the street. And he stood for ten minutes in front of his car and tried to decide if this moment was _real_ , if maybe this was yet another dream and he'd wake up still in darkness, still in Hell, still suffering.

Eventually he turned and walked into the motel. It was easy to find his brother, too easy, and some part of Dean made a mental note to talk to him about that. He needed to be more careful, just in case. Dean didn't know why he was here now, didn't know what had deemed him worth to be dragged from hell. He wasn't, he wasn't anywhere close to worthy. He deserved that fate for eternity.

Dean stared at the door, listened for voices, and closed his eyes around the race of his heart. Then his fist lifted and he hesitated once more before knocking swiftly and stepping back. He wondered if it would be clear in his eyes, if his brother would know right away, would see all the things he had done, all the ways he had broken.

Yanking the door open, "yeah?" was already half way out of Sam's mouth before he looked up. It couldn't be Dean. There was no way. Sam stumbled at step forward, winced then stepped back. His mouth opened, half-formed words dying on his tongue. In a matter of seconds his expression hardened, hand snatching at the knife holstered on his thigh. Launching himself toward whatever the _hell_ was standing there looking like his brother - his _dead_ brother - Sam let out an angry yell. He slammed into the body _hard_ , breath jolted out of him for a few moments. They fell backwards in a mess of limbs - Sam landing on _Dean's_ chest with the silver blade at his throat. "What are you?" His teeth were clenched, chest heaving with anger and the tiny slice of pain at seeing a face so like his brother's.

Sucking in a surprised breath Dean took a moment to simply stare up at his brother. A different sort of heat was soaking through him and Dean swallowed thickly before forcing his mouth to kick into gear. "Sam. Sam it's me, I swear," his voice was rough and hoarse, as if all those years screaming in Hell were finally catching up to him. The fact that he could remember the feel of Sam's lips, the heat of his body in other ways, made Dean's stomach roll sickeningly swift and tried in vain to push his brother off. "It's _me_ Sam. Damnit get off me, can hardly breathe."

The sneer broke for a moment at the sound of Dean's voice and then Sam sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and dragged the edge of the blade across his brother's throat. Only deep enough to draw blood. _How could he ever kill without knowing?_

Dean hissed at the sudden surprise sting of pain. His eyes widened slightly, flashing in shock before he realized he should have been proud of his brother for taking the necessary precautions to ensure he was safe. "Jesus Sam, couldn't you have just asked me to tell you something only I'd know?" He huffed, and then silently admitted that no, those things could be found out too. "It's me, alright? Honest to god, Dean fuckin' Winchester, and, seriously, I can't _breathe_ ," Dean pointed out and pushed his body up, wishing he hadn't a moment later when their hips touched.

"Sam?" Ruby's voice jolted Sam into motion.

Yanking a flask from his back pocket he knocked the top off and tossed Holy water into Dean's face. Blinking slowly, he stared at the drops of water as they rolled down his brother's cheeks. "Dean?" His bottom lip quivered as his head tilted slightly to the side. "Wha... Dean?"

Lifting a hand slowly Dean wiped the water from his face and stared down at it. He wanted to lift his eyes to Sam but there was _her_ and she hovered so close and Dean saw _them_. Turning his head to the side he shrugged, "yeah, I don't know. Just woke up in the grave." Dean lifted his hands to show off dirty fingernails. "Dug myself out and got here. No clue... I... Sam she's..." Dean's eyes shot up toward the girl, the _demon_ , before dropping and turning away. "Believe I'm real now?"

Ruby leaned over Sam’s shoulder, "nice to see you again, Dean." She smiled, a crooked grin as her hand curled over Sam's shoulder.

Shrugging off her touch Sam shuffled back on his knees and stood, reaching a hand out to Dean. His expression softened, lips parting in a surprised gasp of air. "Dean..." he whispered. _Dean_. Months he'd tried to find a way to make this moment happen, months. And here was his brother and _fuck_ if he wasn't the most perfect thing Sam had seen in a very long time. "Ruby... go."

"Sam?" She stumbled back a step, frowning.

"Go!" Sam's voice trembled. "Get out." His hand was trembling, still held out toward his brother as she shoved past Sam.

The door slammed loud and sudden and Dean flinched slightly before lifting his hand and curling into his brother's. His heart quickened slightly as the man pulled him to his feet and Dean swallowed thickly once more, staring at his brother. It hit him like a slap across the face. This was _real_. This wasn't some new method of torture. Sam was _real_. "Sam..." he breathed and tightened his hand, forcing himself not to even _blink_ just in case.

Sam yanked his brother up and threw his arms round Dean's neck. There weren't any words that he could use, nothing he could say that would tell Dean how much his heart had ached to have him back; how many ways he'd tried to heal the gaping wound in his life only to eventually grasp it simply couldn't _be_ healed without his brother. Burying his face in Dean's neck, Sam laughed softly and sniffed, fingers digging into Dean's shoulders. "Fuck, Dean. I... tried so hard.” He wanted to let go but his grip only tightened, "I couldn't get you back."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Dean whispered in return and held on just as tight. This was real, the pleasant warmth of Sam's body, reassuring and strong. Dean chose to focus on that and ignored the cold voice of his brother - _not his brother_ \- whispering in another place _he's not sitting around waiting for you, he even gave up trying to find a way to get you back._ It didn't matter now. Whether that was true or not, if it had all been a lie, Dean had his brother, his Sam. Everything else he'd just learn to deal with.


End file.
